Limelight. The club now a mini mall???

I remember standing in line outside this church in the 90's and repeatedly getting denied access (too young.) I especially remember a time when the guys I was with offered to kiss each other in an effort to get in. The tranny door person wasn't impressed but its a night worth reliving in my memory as it was hilarious and we ended up back in Astoria Queens at Pappagallo (a club on Steinway.) I still lament never having been able to go into the club.

This is what it was.

Now it's a shopping center.

How times have changed.

This isn't forever. This is just right now.

Let me tell you a secret. I’m happy. I’ve been a bit hesitant to admit that but I am. It’s odd how when things go wrong you seem to want to tell the world about them. You want them off your chest and you want someone to nod reassuringly and hold your hand and tell you everything is going to be OK. You want to be comforted and enveloped in someone else’s nurturing words assuring you that things will work out. And we do this all because when life seems tough, we generally can’t for the life of us just up and say things will get better. We don’t allow ourselves to believe it even though we are quick to believe the same exact statement from another person.

And then when things are good and when life is smiles and sunshine, we shy away from admitting it. It’s like we are 12 years old and the admission alone will guarantee someone will come around screaming JINX! And that very thing will cause the sky to fall. I’m going to risk that right now because I am happy. And it is not in that complacent ‘it is what it is’ kind of way. No, I’m genuinely happy.

You want to know why?

I stopped caring so much and started living. I’ve finally accepted life as it is. And guess what? It’s not perfect. And that is the best thing of all! Because it’s not supposed to be! I’ve exhausted so much time in my life bitching and complaining and wondering when it will be my turn to live the life I want to live. Constantly telling myself that I don’t have enough time or enough options in life and that where I’m meant to be is someplace other then where I am right now. I have been feeling guilty of spending too much time away from my kids, not expending enough effort in my business and being lackluster in my full time job. 2010 started and we’re in April now and I’ve been put on a roller coaster ride in the last 3 months. I was given options, opportunities, and have completed tasks and had successes. I have busted ass, and lit fires under other’s asses and I have taken the time to sit down and see the beauty of everyday life. I stopped making excuses, and started making decisions.

I separated Dianne into the individual persons she is. Dianne the mom and wife, Dianne the Colorblind entrepreneur, Dianne the full time worker, and Dianne the self reliant individual. For a long time I actually thought that these individual representations of me had to be ‘on’ at all time and I finally snapped and realized, they are a part of me but don’t need to subsist simultaneously 24/7. How I haven’t crashed yet is alarming. And maybe that fainting spell last month (yes I fainted and it was not something I'd like to repeat) was the warning I needed that I needed to start taking better care of myself. And so, that’s what I’m doing.

I’ve started concentrating on Dianne the self reliant individual most of all! She is the life force and the authentic ‘me’ that I have lived with all my life. The confident girl that wanted what she wanted when she wanted it and did whatever she needed to do within her means to get it. The person who took self portraits on the regular, took the time to ensure she felt good in her own skin, and claimed vanity, to a certain extent was a good thing. I’ve let her slide. I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the face looking back at me and so I actually went on a diet (my first ever and with success), started taking better care of myself and started being a bit selfish with myself. I’m in my 4th week of this operation and I feel better than I have in a long time. I am steadily getting back to being the confident devil may care woman I recognize.

I’m going to quote another person here because this really accurately describes what my current mindset about being a wife and mom.

Accept that your day to day life simply isn't always going to flow smoothly. You have to cede a certain amount of control in your life -- especially if you have kids. Some days you're going to feel like, "Shit! I'm so overextended. That feeling can be extremely frustrating -- until you say to yourself, "You know, things are just always going to be kind of out of balance."

And once you do that -- once you expect at least a little normal life chaos, and stop beating yourself up over it -- acceptance takes over. And here's the irony: once we begin expecting and accepting imbalance, that mind-set paradoxically guides us to periods of -- guess what? – balance

And that is where I am now, this odd reality that chaos is the norm and that perfection shouldn’t be a goal. We expend so much energy in our lives making sure we give the right impression to the world, making sure we look totally put together in everything we do. FREAKING OUT when things aren’t perfect when really, the dishes in the sink, toys on the ground and unironed clothes aren’t the enemy. The enemy is this compulsory need to make sure everything is where it needs to be and using up hours of precious family time to ensure that something that is not an immediate need is done that very instant. The floor can remain dirty so that you and your husband have a bit of adult time. That’s the kind of exhaustion one needs in their life, not the kind that comes with everyday living expectations. We can order out today so that the entire family can enjoy the 90 degree weather in April at the park. Life goes on even if you don’t get everything you want to get done - might as well enjoy it.

When I chose to return to my everyday job from another opportunity I had I wondered if it was the right choice. I now see it was the best choice for me. But in returning I changed a bit of my thinking. I returned with an understanding that it’s not worth bitching that I 'have to' work full time. It’s a job and a paycheck and they have an expectation of me in exchange for that paycheck. So what I need to do is live up to that expectation, do what I am paid for and leave. And that is what I need to do. Do they get on my nerves on occasion? YES. But the only reason is because I have not done what I should have done or I am letting something trivial get to me.

I am happy. Life is moving in the right direction. The road isn’t without its bumps, but I’ll take the bumps without bitching. It’s part of the ride. I’ve got a job, I’ve got kids, I’ve got life demands -- and I’m not going to apologize for anything, because I’m getting it done. This isn’t forever. This is just right now.

The torch has passed. Relax.

I don't know what to write. There is so much going on in my head as of late that I'm not focused on documenting what's going on in my life. So many things happening and yet I feel if I write them down I will be overwhelmed. Things at times are good. At times it feels as if my world is collapsing around me. There are things I understand and things I long to understand. Patience, never a strong suit of mine, is the only thing that I am supposed to be adhering to and I battle it. I have always wanted what I wanted when I wanted it. Life just doesn't work that way.

I went to a meeting in the city at the Cupcake Cafe directly after work yesterday.

Although I'm not a fan of the cupcake (or this ones confection at all), the frosting is what makes them and I will suck off the frosting and dispose of the often times boring cake associated. Which is what i did yesterday. But I digress, I do love this location for meetings though. Its a kitschy little place that shares its space with a children's book store. Just very warm and inviting and it was a good meeting.

I parked 3 blocks away (free parking!) so after the meeting it was already almost 8. I walked slowly and enjoyed the smell of the city, its bustle & vibe. I felt nostalgic as I always do when I'm back but I also felt enveloped in warmth. Hugged so to speak. And when I got to the car and sat down I was awash with tiredness. My feet throbbed as if I had been on my feet all day, my back hurt, my arms were sore. In that 3 block walk I managed to do something I haven't done in a while.....

RELAX

I let my guard down enough that I was overtaken by my body. I was so tired and yet it felt good to be tired. I embraced the feeling that evening. It felt good to FEEL something. It's peak wedding season. I'm working the full time job which has picked up a wee bit *thankfully.* I'm taking care of meetings, I'm out early mornings on weekends and not returning until late into the night. I'm constantly on the go and in that rush from here to there and back again I'm left with tunnel vision. Moving onto my next destination with no time to really breathe in the world around me. No time to really FEEL. My kids reach out to me every time I walk in the door as my presence, much to my dismay, is short lately. I sat with them yesterday on the couch. One on each side with their little heads on my chest and smiled. I felt satiated. I valued the little time they sat with me before they buzzed off in their toddler states to their next endeavor. I enjoy the fact that they want me around, need me but yet know that I do what I do and can let me go to do it. We've adapted to enjoy the time together as much as possible I guess. Or maybe that's what I'm telling myself.

I work hard. I don't give myself credit for that but I do. I realize how much my mom used to work as well. How much she still does. I realize now how much my mother in law works. They both have raised children and now assist with their grandchildren and the work they do in that is rewarding and everything around them affords them that reward. And that is what I'm doing now. Working hard for the reward of 4 little arms wrapped around me and a plethora of stolen kisses that make everything worthwhile. The torch has passed to the next generation. I realize that now. I need to remember to relax. I realize a lot when I give myself the opportunity to see what's around me.

I should take walks alone in the city more often.

Reminiscing...

I was randomly looking through google images at old NYC pictures today and I came across a picture of the Palladium. If you don't already know, Rob and I met on the dance floor of that club. Back then, believe it or not I didn't dance. But it was back on March 31, 1995 that we first came into contact. And it was a week later on April 7th that we officially 'met.' I'm not one for believing in fate, but for some odd reason, the planets were aligned or something. It was kismet. And because I saw these pictures I was taken back. I have always said I'd tell the story of how we met but I never get around to it and here I am, 5 days from the 14th anniversary (um...WOW) of our first encounter and I'm finally going to put the story down on paper.

Back then, I hung out with a friend *N often. She had club connections, knew promoters and was on guest lists. We were 17 years old. Still in high school. I was the one friend with as liberal a parent as she had. So we would venture down to city to the NYC clubs and hang out. We used to show up there early. Clubs would open their doors between 10 and 11 with the simple goal to fill up their club with as many girls as possible. So the very fact that we were 17 didn't matter. Like I mentioned before, I didn't really dance back then. *N would meet up with whatever promoter friend she was dealing with, get a drink and bop around to the music. I'd find a place to sit down. The night of the 31st I was sitting on top of a speaker (you know, the bass bottoms that would serve as stages for the barely clad dancers later in the night) and Rob would later tell me that I had a blue light shining on me. *N was bopping around. It was really early so the club was fairly empty and the dance floor was bare.

Except for one guy. There was this one fool, in the middle of the dance floor dancing around and - what was he doing besides dancing??? He was pulling an imaginary rope. That my dear friends was Rob, in his Cesar haircut and a plaid button down shirt open to expose his wife beater. *N was already in love, I just made fun of him. He was pulling an imaginary rope for god's sake! He had come super early with his crew because one/some of them were underage and that's what you did to get into the club back then. It was Heather's birthday.

But beyond the fact that he saw me sitting on the speaker under the blue light (with a tight red mock turtleneck and black corduroy wide leg pants (yes, I wore wide legs back then too) and I was making fun of his overconfidence to dance on an empty dance floor, there was no further interaction. That is until just after midnight, when he managed to come up dancing closer to where *N and I were residing, her dancing around and me perched on yet another speaker. Spotting him she made her move and was dancing with him when I, bored with being there already announced our departure. She had to work the next day and I just wanted to go home. I still remember Rob's face when I said goodbye as he tried to convince us to stay later. *N was giddy at having managed to dance with him. I was happy to just get the hell out of there.

7 days later *N, our friend *K and I found ourselves back at the Palladium. Early again. And let me backtrack but one of my favorite things about that club were the lighted stairs. They were just such a site to greet you at arrival and to lead you away as you left. I used to watch the movie The Secret of My Succe$s with Michael J. Fox just for the scene showcasing this stairwell. Sometime during the night *N took off to the other side of the packed dance floor after spotting Rob across the room. A few minutes later him and his friends were all over by us. I remained firmly planted on the platform. They all danced around. The DJ switched from a house set into reggae and Jose convinced me down off my platform to dance. So I did. *N would flit around from dancing with Rob and his friends back to me. Laughing in her odd manner and savoring the fun and attention. At one point I remember dancing with *N and the next thing I remember was the beginning of the Boricua Anthem being played. *N took my hand and literally FLINGS me into Rob as she turns to dance with someone else. I remember 2 things only of that. The first is the song playing. The second is the fact that I have never been spun so many times in my life. I remember going in circles, laughing all the while. From the first instance where we danced together there was a connection. I can't explain it. Did I like him, no. Not yet. Did he like me. Well yeah. Rob to this day says we were the center of attention in that instance. I think the attention was all his on me. It is the reason that the front page of our invitations said "Y Todo Comenzo Bailando" (translation: and it all began dancing) and it is why when they announced the demolition of the Palladium we took pictures.

The palladium will always have a special place in my heart. And all those memories came flooding back further with these videos posted on you tube. There is the palladium I knew, the one where we met. In the video you see the speaker which I sat on, the platform, the place where we first met. The lighted upstairs bar where he bought me a malibu bay breeze right after that dance and when he thought I was at least 18. You see the stadium seating where we hung out, and the projection/TV screens where they would show japanese animation videos throughout the night.







14 years ago. Time flies.

Nostalgic for Home

If you know me, you know that if I had the opportunity to live ANYWHERE in the world I would not hesitate to go back to my hometown of Astoria, NY. It's my bit of heaven. And even with all its current gentrification 'upper ditmars' will always be where I consider home. Just being there gives me a sense of calm that I cannot even explain. In minutes your in Manhattan, you can manage to get whatever you are itching to get at whatever hour it is you wish to get it. You don't need a car. You actually *GASP* WALK places. I miss all of this. It's diversity, it's convenience, it's neighborhood-ness as although it is in New York City - it has that small town warmth to it.

Yet I'm about 20 miles away. Close enough to be close but far enough to miss it every now and again. And I read this article and it really resonated with me.

Bad mommy - My daughter prefers the suburbs to NYC—where did I go wrong?
Time Out New York Kids / Issue 31 : Apr 15–May 15, 2008

As a third-generation Lower East Sider, I’d long been mystified by the mind-set of couples who moved out to the suburbs once the kids came along. But one marriage proposal later, I too packed up my apartment and bought a big fat house on Long Island. I even traded in my ten-year-old city beater for an Infiniti, the luxury car of the moment.

Once the Chicklet arrived, the time I spent on Sunrise Highway in my J30 lost its romance. Schlepping baby gear in and out of the car, I began to secretly yearn for Manhattan, where it seemed all a parent had to do was throw the kid into a stroller and go. Anything you might need, from Goldfish crackers to a single diaper, could be picked up at a bodega or Korean deli. It didn’t help that my marriage was coming to an end.

Then came the final straw. Actually, it was a giant oak tree, which fell on my house. With no super to call, I dialed 911 and was educated by the local emergency operator about something called a tree surgeon. It made no sense to stay and acquire more suburban vocabulary, so I decided to raise my preschooler back in my hometown.

I talked up our move to the Big Apple for weeks. It was a bright fall morning when we returned to Grand Street. As we emerged from the clunky old Chevy I’d gotten in trade for the Infiniti (a deal blessed by my father, who swears that anything shiny parked in Manhattan will get broken into), a fire truck blaring its siren zoomed by. “It’s loud,” my daughter winced, shielding her ears.

Before I could give what would become the first of many apologies for the city’s shortcomings, another engine went by, followed right behind by a third. My acquired New York obliviousness to such rackets was still with me; all I heard was the welcome wagon. But the Chicklet reacted to the din as a kind of sensory punishment—which, come to think of it, was exactly how I felt about the tranquility of the burbs.

Since the days of The Exorcist and Jason Voorhees, I’ve had a subconscious belief that demons and psychos emerge from suburban backyards and basements when all is otherwise placid. On Long Island, the only sounds were crickets and something called “settling.” As in, “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. That’s just the house settling.” To this day, I don’t understand how a house built in 1948 can still be settling. Is the Dakota or Trump Tower settling?

I tried to lift the Chicklet’s spirits with talk of Halloween. Trick-or-treating in a warm Manhattan apartment building sure beats the misery of trudging from house to house in a winter coat that hides the all-important costume. Then, on October 30, a memo came informing new tenants that trick-or-treating was against co-op policy. Appalled at this edict, I defiantly took the Chicklet around the building. But our efforts yielded only a couple of fortune cookies, a handful of pennies and a can of soda. Yet another blow to my “I heart NY” propaganda campaign.


Still, all was not lost. The Chicklet’s first New Year’s Eve in Manhattan was a big one: 1999!I figured 10am was a reasonable hour to take a tot into Times Square. To commemorate the occasion, I gave my camera to a cop for a quick Y2K shot of us by the ball drop. Right before he snapped the photo, my daughter turned her back to the camera and dug her face into my parka. The crowds and chaotic revelry were not her style.

At bedtime that night, as random firecracker blasts went off around the neighborhood, I tried to distract her with a discussion of New Year’s resolutions. By way of example, I told her I wanted to exercise more. She didn’t have to think long before stating that she wanted to move back to the suburbs, where it’s quiet and you get candy on Halloween.


When midnight came, I watched the fireworks from my window and thought about how lucky I was to be back in the city. The local TV news serenaded my solitary moment with “Auld Lang Syne,” followed by the requisite “New York, New York.”

“If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere,” belted out Old Blue Eyes.

And then it hit me.

Sorry, Mr. Chairman, but that’s just not true. I can’t make it anywhere but here. However, my daughter may decide to take her chances one day.

I can only hope to instill an appreciation and love for the city into my kids from the short distance of 20 miles. I wish they had the opportunity to grow up in the kind of atmosphere I did. I will just try my best for them to get a taste of it.


Pictures from Mother's Day
We went to central park to walk around and just hang out.











If you look in the background of the last one - you'll see Rob and Ari.